The Valerian emissary drummed his bony fingers on a low table while watching the sundial. The shadow its black granite arrow cast had drifted down half an hour’s angle since he had arrived at this Agyptian watering hole, and his correspondent still had yet to appear.
Despite the shade the palm-thatched awning cast over the establishment’s rear veranda, the southern sun had sunk to a low enough angle to tan his complexion a darker shade of olive, with sweat from the heat sticking to the tunic under his toga. If he had to wait a full hour, he would become almost as dark as the locals blabbering around him.
What was taking the emissary’s correspondent so long? Was that accursed fool more loyal to the whore he called Pharaoh than he should have been?
Surely, nobody in her court could have approved of her recent dalliance, given their customary attitude toward foreigners meddling in their affairs. These were supposed to be the proud and glorious people who had beaten back hordes of invaders over the ages. Any of them should have shown more indignation, more outrage, more than enough to storm over here without a second’s hesitation. Even more so with the promise of gold.
Besides, the less time a gentleman of Valerium had to spend around these stinking Agyptian nigri, the better.
At long last, a man of Agyptian stock approached the emissary, wearing a fine white robe of pleated linen beneath a bejeweled collar and a wig of curled black locks. The Valerian exhaled through his nose with relief and straightened himself up on his stool.
The correspondent addressed him in Ellenic, the language of commerce, with a melodic Agyptian accent. “Apologies for having you wait, my Valerian brother. I’ve been working harder than usual.”
“I imagine being the Pharaoh’s physician would be taxing work, Khaheru,” the emissary said. “Call me Claudio, representing the triumvir Actavio Kesare. But don’t call me ‘brother’.”
Khaheru chortled with a full-lipped grin. “We Agyptians call every man ‘brother’. But what on the gods’ earth is a ‘triumvir’? Is that some Valerian word?”
“Correct, it means one who oversees a third of a nation. Now, how much do you know about Valerian politics?”
“I’ve overheard a little at court, but not much,” Khaheru replied with a shrug.
Claudio cleared his throat. “Ever since our civil war, the Valerian republic’s territory has split threefold, each third under the control of one of its finest generals. Kesare, as triumvir, governs the central provinces where Valerium itself lies. Marco Lepido governs the provinces annexed in the west, and the triumvir of the east is none other than Julio Antonio.”
Khaheru’s eyes widened. “You mean the man Pharaoh’s been courting the past two years? I swear by Ma’at’s feather, I don’t know what she sees in that pale-arsed barbarian!”
“You’re far from the only one who disapproves. I daresay the majority of our ‘pale-arsed’ citizens back home find their affair outrageous, most of all Kesare. Not only did Antonio divorce his sister to be with your Pharaoh, but my triumvir has good reason to fear their allied forces will come ramming down Valerium’s door itself.”
“You Valerians can never resist warring with one another, can you?” Khaheru snickered.
“Moving on, I believe you had some business to offer me? You did offer a generous price.”
Claudio dipped his head toward Khaheru’s ear and spoke in a whisper. “We need Julio Antonio eliminated.
“How so? I’m no stealthier than an elephant and have little training with a dagger…unless you count my surgeon’s blade. Oh, I could poison the man, but I warn you, Pharaoh has almost as many tasters as she has guards.”
“You’re the finest physician in all Agyptos, aren’t you? You must know every form of magic out there, not just poison.” Claudio scratched his chin in thought. “For example, aren’t you Agyptians good with animals? Because, while Antonio may be a distinguished fighter of men, he’s not so much known as a beast slayer.”
A light sparked in the royal physician’s black kohl-lined eyes. “If it’s magic you want me to use, I know not only how to control beasts, but how to create them as if I were Ptah the creator himself. Pharaoh’s menagerie supplies me with all manner of animal parts. By mixing together the parts of different creatures in a potion and enchanting it with Ptah’s blessing, I can bring to life a monster of my own design!”
“Impressive. Are you able to have it track down and attack a specific man?”
“Of course! It won’t even be difficult. Our barber can provide the hair cuttings I’ll need to train its nose on.”
“Excellent to hear, my Agyptian amico.”
Claudio took out his purse and poured out a shimmering pile of gold coins. Khaheru pinched one up and let its yellow gleam reflect in his eyes.
“You almost didn’t have to pay me, brother,” Khaheru said. “I would’ve been more than happy to rid our court of that barbarian interloper at no cost whatsoever.”
“So why haven’t you done it already?” Claudio asked.
The Agyptian physician cackled with greed with scooping the coins on the table toward himself with his arm. “On second thought, I might have needed just a little more incentive.”
